


Judicious Expectations

by Ladybug_21



Series: Growing Pains [4]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24835102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladybug_21/pseuds/Ladybug_21
Summary: In which Jocelyn and Maggie deal with the inevitable angst of parenting. Set in the same AU asTiny Developments.
Relationships: Jocelyn Knight/Maggie Radcliffe
Series: Growing Pains [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836136
Comments: 22
Kudos: 56





	Judicious Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> The [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778258) that inspired this one assumes that Maggie and Jocelyn are about twenty years younger than in canon, which would put them in their mid- to late-fifties at the time of this story, set a little over a decade later. As usual, I own no rights to _Broadchurch_. And the title is somewhat obviously riffing on Dickens, whom we'll forgive for creating some of the most heinous lawyers in the history of literature (looking at you, Tulkinghorn).

The press conference over at the police station had run a little bit long, and Maggie was worried that she would get caught up in afternoon traffic on the single-lane roads around Broadchurch. Somehow, though, she arrived at the school only a few minutes later than intended and pulled into the queue of cars waiting to pick up children. Things were inching forward slowly enough that she was able to dash off a few quick emails on her phone while waiting, look over the photos that the new photographer had sent from the reopening of the refurbished town hall (not half bad, she was relieved to see), reschedule a haircut that was going to conflict with some big announcement from a local councilmember tomorrow morning (because if it was at all related to the scandal that had been percolating through the tabloids recently, Maggie wasn't going to miss _that_ for the world). Beth Latimer, walking through the car park with Lizzie, caught Maggie's eye and waved, and Maggie waved back. Finally she reached the front of the queue and scanned the faces of the kids waiting, then unrolled the window of her car.

"Jules!" she called, and her son stopped talking to his friend Peter and ambled over. "Sorry I'm a little late," she added as he clambered into the backseat.

"It's all right," he replied.

Maggie put the car in gear and glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"How was your day?" she prompted.

"Fine," replied Jules, who, bless his heart, had no poker face whatsoever and looked anything but fine.

Maggie waited for a few moments longer, glancing between the road and the mirror, and finally she pulled over to the side of the road.

"Everything all right, love?" she asked, turning around in her seat so she could peer at her son in concern.

Jules, looking out his window, nodded his head rather unconvincingly.

Maggie sighed, turned off the engine, and got out of the driver's seat of the car so she could slip into the backseat.

"Julian," she said, very seriously but very kindly, "won't you tell me what's happened?"

Jules wouldn't look at Maggie, but when she put a hand on his back, he dropped his head in shame.

"I really messed up today," he said in a small voice, clearly trying not to cry.

"Messed up how, petal?" Maggie scooted over so she could wrap her arms around her boy and plant a kiss on top of his head. "As long as no one got hurt, I'm sure it can't be all that awful, can it?"

"It was the big debate," Jules explained miserably. "You know how hard I worked to make sure that everything was perfect..."

"I do," agreed Maggie. Jocelyn, of course, hadn't found it at all strange that the school was having eleven year olds get up in front of each other and debate legislation pending before the Commons, and the barrister was more than willing to pull herself away from her desk to moot Jules as many times as he asked. "And I'm sure you did just fine! No one ever does these things perfectly, you know. Not even your mum, and she's about as close to perfect at public speaking as you can get."

"I completely froze," sniffled Jules. "I don't know what happened, Mummy. I knew everything that I was going to say, but I stood up in front of the class, and it was like my voice just disappeared. I stood there not saying _anything_ until finally my teacher told me I could go sit down."

Maggie patted her son's back and sighed. Of course stage fright wasn't the end of the world, but she could see why Jules was so upset. Having inherited Maggie's chatterbox tendencies, it must have particularly unnerving to suddenly find himself completely unable to speak. And something this _public_ was bound to be upsetting for any preteen in a class of judgemental peers, but Jules had unfortunately also inherited Jocelyn's perfectionist tendencies. No wonder the poor boy was so devastated.

"Listen," Maggie said, "everyone's done something like this in the past. I promise you, most people won't remember in a month's time. Or, if they do remember, it'll be to say to each other, huh, remember that time Jules Knight-Radcliffe stumbled a little during that one debate? It was funny, because that's _so unlike_ him, he's usually so brilliant at everything, but I guess we'll have to excuse him for being only human."

"You think?" asked Jules.

"I don't _think_ , petal, I _know_." Maggie kissed Jules on the top of his head again and climbed out of the backseat. "Everything will be just fine, you'll see."

They drove for a few more minutes in silence before Jules added, "It's just, everyone knows who Mum is. Everyone remembers. Even my teacher—when he gave us this project, he actually said something about how persuasive speaking was what Jules's mum who's a barrister does for a living."

Maggie clenched the steering wheel a little tighter. Of _course_ everyone in Broadchurch remembered the Joe Miller trial, and of _course_ everyone knew that Jules was Jocelyn's son, but for god's sake, didn't they realise how stupid it was to put those sorts of unspoken expectations on a child?

"I'm sorry, love," she sighed. "It's not fair of them to forget that you're your own person. _And_ that you're only eleven! I'll bet you anything that Mum didn't know the first thing about public speaking when she was eleven." (Knowing Jocelyn, Maggie actually wasn't sure, but that was entirely beside the point.)

Jules exhaled.

"Do you think she's going to be really disappointed with me?" he asked softly.

"Oh, Jules!" Maggie was tempted to pull over again and give her son another hug, but they were almost home, so she refrained. "No, of course not. Don't you worry about that for another second."

But as they got out of the car and made their way to the house, Maggie knew that she was probably long overdue for a chat with Jocelyn about all of this, anyway.

* * *

"Can we talk for a minute?" Maggie asked, knocking on the doorframe of Jocelyn's office.

"Can it wait?" asked Jocelyn without looking up from her computer screen. Somehow, the formatting on this brief had gone completely wonky since the last time she'd seen it; when she'd opened the most recent document five minutes ago, she'd been horrified to see that half of the text was now in Wingdings that refused to be converted back into normal font.

"No, Jocelyn, it really can't," Maggie snapped, and whenever Maggie used that particular tone, Jocelyn knew that it was best to just listen. She pushed her chair away from her desk.

"Is everything all right?" she asked tentatively, wondering how worried she should be.

"Mostly," Maggie sighed. "Jules was really upset when I picked him up today."

"About what?" (The Wingdings brief was quickly forgotten.) "Is he hurt? Did someone say something unkind to him?"

"No, he's fine. He's in his room, hopefully not brooding too much."

Jocelyn made a tiny movement that betrayed the urge to rush to Jules's room and see for herself that he was unscathed, but she stayed put.

"Do you know what happened?"

"Oh, it sounds like he froze up during that debate today." Maggie shrugged. "Not the end of the world, of course, but he's distraught."

"Hmm." Jocelyn pursed her lips and stood up, businesslike. "Well, we can certainly work on keeping that from happening again, in the future. I hope you reminded him that these things just take repetition to get right?"

"Jocelyn, no," Maggie sighed. "Look, I know your first impulse is to troubleshoot these sorts of issues, but that's _really_ not what he needs, right now."

"Well, what _does_ he need, then?!"

Jocelyn's voice had risen several pitches, into a register of politely concealed panic that Maggie had only ever really heard Jocelyn use in matters concerning their son. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that even if this conversation was technically about Jules's unhealthy perfectionist tendencies, she had to be equally sensitive to Jocelyn's constant worries that she wasn't being a good enough mother.

"I know you have very high expectations for Jules," she began.

"And why shouldn't I?" asked Jocelyn defensively. "He's very bright, he's getting good marks..."

"Yes, I know," Maggie interrupted, exasperated, "but don't you see that, when you say things like that, it only means he puts even more pressure on himself to succeed at school? What's gonna happen now if he doesn't get into Oxford or Cambridge? He'll be absolutely devastated, when god knows there are plenty of brilliant people who didn't go to either and still are very successful and, more importantly, _happy_."

"I know that," grumbled Jocelyn, who was fully aware that Maggie hadn't gone to Oxford or Cambridge and still was very happy with her life. "But is it so terrible for a parent to want that for her child?"

"Only if you manage to keep things in perspective," Maggie countered. "Yeah, academics are important, but Jules can't build his _entire_ sense of self-worth around school. Uni isn't the end-all, be-all of existence, after all."

"Well, you can't tell me that you wouldn't be disappointed if he didn't attend uni," Jocelyn argued.

"But so what if he doesn't? It's not a prerequisite for being a good person. You don't blame Mark Latimer for never going to uni, do you?"

"Of course not," huffed Jocelyn, "but Mark Latimer is not my son."

"Jocelyn, listen, I know that you secretly think that Jules is better than any other kid out there—I get it, I feel the same way, I'm not exactly objective here. But just because you think he's better, doesn't mean you can't let him make mistakes sometimes. He's only eleven, after all."

"I don't blame him for making mistakes sometimes! Of course I don't."

"Well, I think you should tell him that," said Maggie. "Because he's so afraid that you'll be really disappointed with him, for this one little incident that could have happened to anyone."

Jocelyn visibly deflated at hearing this.

"Did he say that?" she asked, wounded.

Maggie took a step forward and wrapped her arms around the barrister. The two swayed slightly on the spot as Jocelyn sighed and wrapped her arms around Maggie in return.

"He really looks up to you, petal," Maggie said quietly into Jocelyn's ear. "I think sometimes you don't understand how much he wants your approval."

"Why just _my_ approval?" Jocelyn grumbled. "You're his mum, too."

"Yeah, but I think you don't appreciate how different it is, to be my son in Broadchurch versus your son. Me, I'm just the editor of the local rag, he sees me puttering about all the time, being an open book and talking to everyone, because that's my job. Whereas you—well, like it or not, everyone still remembers you from one major trial that happened before Jules was even born, and he's had to live with that his entire life. And if your semi-mythical status in this town weren't enough on that basis alone, you spend so much time up in London, doing work that Jules can barely begin to understand..."

"So, what?" It hurt Maggie's heart to hear Jocelyn holding back tears like this. "Should I stop practising in London? Will staying in Broadchurch make me more real for Jules? Is giving up my career the only way to be present for my son like I need to be?"

"Good god, no!" said Maggie with a soft laugh. "You think I've forgotten what a disaster you were, the last time you thought you had to give up your career? Let's not make that mistake again, please."

"Well?" Jocelyn took a step back, but she grasped Maggie's hands, her eyes silently pleading for guidance.

"What Jules needs right now," Maggie explained, "is for you to make very clear to him that you'll love him regardless of how he does in one debate at school, or how he does on his A levels, or whether or not he ends up at Oxbridge or Harvard or wherever. If he comes to you in a few days, asking for advice about public speaking, then fine, talk to him about that then. But while he's still getting over things, don't even treat it like it's something that needs correcting. He's not your pupil, after all, and he certainly doesn't need you to be a QC for him. He just needs you to be his mum, and that'll be more than enough."

Jocelyn nodded, a small smile creeping across her face. Maggie closed the space between them again and kissed her.

"It's all fine, Jocelyn," she murmured. "Don't you dare get angry with yourself for making little mistakes here and there, too."

"I'll try not to." Jocelyn paused, then added, "And I promise not to be too obvious about it, but really, I would be so thrilled if Jules ended up at Oxford."

"Oh, petal," laughed Maggie. "If I'm being perfectly honest, so would I."

* * *

Jules was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, when Jocelyn knocked.

"May I come in?" she asked, peering around the door.

When Jules didn't say anything, she stepped into his bedroom and gently closed the door behind her. Jules spent most of his life smiling, and when he smiled, he looked just like Maggie. But Maggie always insisted that Jules looked much more like Jocelyn when he was being serious, and right now, Jocelyn hated to admit that Maggie had a point.

"I hope you're not being too hard on yourself, Jules," she told her sombre-faced little boy.

"I prepared everything so thoroughly," Jules scowled at the ceiling. "You _know_ I did."

"Ah, well." Jocelyn smiled. "The best-laid plans, you know. It happens all too frequently in the real world, too. Sometimes, there are things that you just can't control, and you can't be angry with yourself for that."

"But this was something that was _entirely_ in my control," Jules insisted. "And I ruined everything."

Jocelyn sighed, and then nudged Jules so that he sat up and made room on the bed for her to sit down next to him. Jocelyn wrapped an arm around his shoulders, suddenly realising how much she missed being able to hold her boy like this; within the past year, he'd become so insistent on his independence, rarely letting either of his mums hug him in public anymore (although Maggie, being incorrigible, often ignored Jules's protestations and hugged him anyway).

"You know how most people in Broadchurch remember me from the Joe Miller trial?" she asked, and when Jules nodded, she continued, "Do people who mention it tell you that I lost?"

Jules blinked, confused.

"You _lost_ that trial?" he repeated.

"Rather spectacularly," Jocelyn said with a small laugh. "There were factors that I couldn't control, of course, but there was a lot that I could have done differently. I was livid afterwards, I couldn't believe that things had gone so wrong, when I had planned everything so carefully. I thought that _I'd_ ruined everything. But, of course, your mummy very sensibly reminded me that everyone involved was only human, and that I had to stop holding myself and everyone else to completely unrealistic standards of perfection."

Jules thought about this for a moment.

"Why don't people talk about the fact that you lost?" he asked.

"Who knows?" Jocelyn sighed. "It was a devastating time for everyone in Broadchurch, Jules. I can't even begin to explain how devastating. I wouldn't be surprised if people just don't want to remember how disappointing the result of the trial was, because it's still so upsetting for so many. And, maybe some people don't want to be impolite and describe it as your mum's most infamous failure. But my point is that people remember me not for having won or lost, but for having _tried_. If that's what's stuck with people over the years, then you don't need to worry at all about what happened today. No one's blaming you for what happened but yourself, and there's absolutely no need for that."

It occurred to Jocelyn that Jules was the same age that Danny Latimer had been when he was murdered, and her grip on her son's shoulder tightened just a little. Thank god Jules was able and willing to just _tell_ Maggie what was wrong when he was upset, rather than retreating into the silence and secretiveness that had gotten Danny Latimer (and, to a lesser extent, Tom Miller) into such trouble.

"I was really scared that you'd be angry with me," Jules confessed. "For not getting things right."

"Of course not, Jules. It doesn't matter. Really, it doesn't." Jocelyn leaned her cheek against her son's smooth blond hair. "I know I'm in London more than any of us would like, and I know that I sometimes don't articulate things clearly when I should. But I hope you realise just how proud I am of you, even when I'm away, and even when I don't say so as much as I ought to. Your mummy and I both love you so much, and nothing you do will ever change that."

"Nothing?" Jules asked suspiciously.

"Well, _almost_ nothing. And anything that would change our minds would have to be pretty terrible."

"Like, killing-someone levels of terrible?"

Jocelyn knew that Jules was just testing a hypothetical, but the thought of her little boy as a murderer made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Maybe not even then," she said quietly.

She thought about Sharon Bishop, and how much she had continued to love her son even after he had done the unthinkable; thought about Jack Marshall's body lifeless on the beach, and how Jules's beloved Mummy had played her own sorry part in that whole tragedy. But neither of these were stories to tell Jules, not right now.

"If you're ever worried that I'm angry with you, you do know you can just come and talk to me about it, don't you?" she added. "In the unlikely event that I am, it would probably be helpful for me to hear things from your perspective."

"I know," said Jules, and Jocelyn was relieved to see that he was smiling, no doubt at what a lawyer she was being. "Thanks, Mum."

Jocelyn kissed him on the forehead and grinned when he wrinkled his nose, annoyed.

"I have to get back to work," she explained, suddenly remembering the Wingdings with a twinge of exasperation. "But if you need me, you know where to find me."

Jules nodded, and Jocelyn quietly left his room, once again closing the door behind her. Downstairs, Maggie was animatedly opining on the layout for tomorrow's front page of _The Echo_ with someone on the phone, and Jocelyn stopped on the landing to breathe in the aroma of whatever Maggie was cooking for dinner simultaneously. It was true that Jocelyn still had plenty of work to do. But as long as Maggie and Jules were willing to forgive her for her own imperfections, it seemed as if things would be just fine, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> And I'm *definitely* never going to write this, but I now can't help but wonder if Jocelyn Knight—as an overly intense mother with a high-pressure career—would understand and respect Renata Klein from _Big Little Lies_ on some deep and meaningful level, or if they would hate each other's guts intensely. (Maggie would definitely get along swimmingly with Jane Chapman, at least?)


End file.
